


Lu's Ficlets

by WhoopDoopItsMagic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ficlets, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, Mornings, Nightmares, bottomlock, prompt, smut (if you squint), soft sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:47:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopDoopItsMagic/pseuds/WhoopDoopItsMagic
Summary: My lovely muse, @mychemicaldanandphil, Lucia, has given me some wonderful prompts! These are the works that I have written in return.





	1. jealousy can be a snitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a jealous john takes the stage to make sure everyone knows who his sherlock belongs to.

His eyes narrow as the amateur, amateur, walks away. John's heart is almost pounding with rage. This had never happened with any of his other relationships. It was all trust and willingness. But not with this one, oh no. It isn't that he doesn't trust Sherlock, hell, he would trust Sherlock with his life. It's sorts like the new detective, Odger, that he doesn't trust. With his and Sherlock's relationship still new, he feels the need to remind the inspector that, hey, there's plenty of other fish in the sea, and hey, I get that this extremely rare tropical fish is all sorts of amazing, but he's John's. And John's alone.

The almost exact same thing has happened with Molly when she hadn't yet realised that the nature of his and Sherlock's relationship was. Of course, after finding out, she voiced her apologies, and then John could finally be a peace.

That's the truth of it, the whole of it. Loving Sherlock Holmes was the most important task he had ever been given, probably the most important one in the widest of worlds. And he never took one second of it for granted.

And Sherlock knew this.  
In fact, Sherlock loved it.

It was just simple things, simple body clues that gave away that John was obviously jealous. The way John's hand would slip around his waist, under his coat, run his hands over the seam of his underwear through his trousers. The way John would whisper in his ear something absolutely gorgeous, whenever a single client would get a little too close to him. And his favourite, when in the lab, and Alberta, the new intern, flashes him that flirty smile, and John will slip behind him, wrap one arm around his waste, and tangle his other hand in his hair.

"We are never, ever, working with Odger again." John said, while they slipped into the cab, adrenaline still running, late that evening. Sherlock only smirked into his boyfriends shoulder.  
"You jealous, Johnny?"

"Yeah, well, I don't like people taking what's mine. Might have to lose your scarf and cover you wit hickeys next time to remind them who you belong to."

Sherlock's grin widened.  
"If only they could see my thighs."


	2. desperate times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sherlock's dressing gown seems to have quite the effect on a worried john.

"Worried about me, are you?" Sherlock had smirked back, putting on his coat, and twisting his scarf around his neck.  
"Always, sweetheart." John had smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek.  
Sherlock had almost deflated instantly.  
"Leaving for a week and I don't even get a proper kiss." Sherlock had sighed and made a frowny face, "God, you're harsh to me, John Watson. I ought to report you for spousal abuse for that."  
John smirked, "And I ought to arrest you for being too cute. Jesus, we're that couple the everyone hates aren't we?"  
"Of course, dear." Sherlock leaned in, for a proper kiss, one that he would think about until he got back. John ran his hands through Sherlock's hair one last time, before running his hands down his boyfriends coat lapels. "Be safe, keep your phone charged, text me every few hours. And do up your coat, it's cold out." John had sent him off a mere 6 days ago now.

London's winter was surprisingly colder this year, and with Sherlock in Berlin for a case of Mycroft's and John barely working part time at the surgery, the flat had been increasingly colder during the past few days. 

He was mostly in bed, most of the time. Working and writing on his laptop, working on hard cases, the usual. Only really removing himself from Sherl-Their bedroom to get the occasional cup of tea and snack.

Sherlock, of course, did not text him every few hours to let John know he wasn't dead, did not keep his phone charged, and did not keep his coat buttoned up enough, evident from the cold settling in on him a few days after his eventual return. This ended up with Mycroft sending John hourly updates on Sherlock.

In between intervals of working, writing and thinking excessively on these cold cases, John found himself drawn to Sherlock's royal blue dressing gown, the one hanging off of their bedroom door. It kept him much warmer than expected with the satin fabric, and with John's constant worrying about where Sherlock was, it was surprisingly comforting.

Around this time in the piece would be around the time to tell you that Sherlock's scent had a very large impact on John. One of the most striking moments that this came into play was the Baskerville case. Only one room together meant very close quarters with each other when sharing a double bed. That's when John first noticed it. First, it came to you slow, just sneaking in and then blinding you. He noticed the the expensive shampoo first, then his cologne, then the smokiness, then his hair product, then finally, the one thing tying the whole thing together and making it undoubtedly Sherlock, was the sweet sweet smell of sugar.

It had so much of an effect on him, that John had moved 10.56cm closer to him during the night, which would be revealed by Sherlock at their first date.

The point was, the dressing gown smelled like Sherlock, like his loveable, annoying, adorable, 3 year old boyfriend. And when he hasn't answered his phone in 8 hours, you can see how that could be comforting, "to a worried spouse" as Mycroft had later teased him.

Though, it was startling to hear Sherlock coming through their bedroom door a whole day earlier than expected, and finding John in such a state.

"Surprise." Sherlock had sniffed, in just his shirt, trousers and socks, obviously having shed the other items of his outfit on the way to bed.

Later, after a stern talk about keeping in touch, "Sherlock, I never wish to get that many texts from Mycroft in the space of a week ever again.", Sherlock finally acknowledged the piece of clothing.  
"As much as I like seeing you again, I do believe that this," Sherlock grabbed the hem of the dressing gown, "belongs to me." 

John turned a lively shade of pink.

"Well, desperate times call for desperate measures." John smirks and Sherlock tucks his head into his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dj khaled voice* another one.
> 
>  
> 
> you can find me:  
> my tumblr - @whoopdoopitsmagic  
> my twitter - @whoopdoopitsvia


	3. the softest sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sherlock misses john and john misses sherlock and in the end it's all fine.

Sherlock flopped down onto the bed. Tired from a case is not a good look on him. Eugh. John's in Dublin, visiting an Aunty or Uncle or whoever the fuck took John away from Sherlock. This thing between them, it's only new, and John hadn't wanted to leave, with the thought of their little perfect bubble bursting at the seams at his departure. Sherlock huffs again, in that not-so-blissful moment between sleep and being awake, his head stuffed under the covers. He breathes in, deeply. The sheets smell like John. Although they had been sleeping together for less than 2 weeks, his fucking sheets smell like John. John's St Bart's hoodie also lies blissfully around his form, the back bearing the name WATSON 21.

Well, he thinks, it's no use staying in bed if I'm not going to sleep. This smell is killing me.

Because it is killing him. The smell of John, who is warm tea, jumpers and the warm light of the dining room, as well as the simmering of danger underneath, the heavy weight of a gun and slightly sun kissed skin.

Sherlock sighs, and flops down on the bed.

Fuck you, John Watson, he thinks, but fuck me first.

\------------

Airports, and train stations. They both took far too long to conquer. To John at least. He was home early anyway, at total week earlier than expected. And although, he wanted to tell Sherlock he was coming home...

What's surprise without suspense?

He can't take this anymore. Although the airport is bustling with rushing travellers, the woman in front of John can't seem to fit her bag through security. John takes a deep breath, then flips out his phone from his back pocket. 

"Get me home in 20 minutes and we'll call it even from Wednesday - JW"

This text, was sent to no other than Mycroft Holmes, on a number that only a small group of people had access to. The Wednesday incident being, the fact that Mycroft had kept tabs on Harry again, and by keeping tabs, that obviously meant sending her to AA, again. 

Once again, his phone pings, and startles the woman in front of him.

"Consider it done. Do give our dear Sherlock my love. - MH"

No later than 40 seconds later, and after the woman finds another piece of metal on her, "my belt! of course!". But it doesn't matter, because a man in a black suit and an earpiece taps him on the shoulder, and speaks to him. 

"This way, Doctor Watson." 

John half-smirks, and after walking through a staff only door and a series of corridors, he is brought to a staff car parking arrival section of Heathrow, somewhere deep below the large airport. A limousine seems to await him, and the man pulls open the door for him. After settling into the back, and while the driver navigates his way out of the underground space, John is left to his own devices.

Man, he's really missed Sherlock. 

The man in question who he has realised in the past 3 weeks can compact his whole body into one end of the bathtub, paints his fingernails with nail varnish and looks absolutely delicious with a pale neck covered with bruises from him (and only him) sucking on the precious sensitive skin there.

If he closes his eyes now, he can almost feel Sherlock against him, in one of John's absolute favourite things of Sherlock's doing.

He first did it at breakfast on the morning after. John was sitting down at the kitchen bench, reading the newspaper, pausing every few minutes, when Sherlock, looking nothing less than angelic with his Uni hoodie on (which John secretly thinks has become his favourite on Sherlock since he fist started wearing it that day) seemed to float down the hallway and sit right in his lap. With Sherlock straddling his hips, and muttered good mornings into each other's ears, they found themselves in need of returning to their bedroom much earlier than expected. And apparently, Sherlock wasn't moving. So John moved him for him.

Sherlock, wrapping his long legs around John's waist, while his pale arms drifted around John's neck, stayed still until the both of the were walking down the hallway together. Sherlock was light, extremely light. John'd have to remember to carry him bridal style in the near future. He knew that would be an advantage to him.

Finally, as the car seemed to wind up and out of the underground park and into the blinding light above ground, the car finally began to crawl on towards the city, each building growing larger as time progressed.

Ah, Sherlock, John mused, what a lovely thing to think about.

\-----------

15 seconds, 15 seconds.

15 seconds since Sherlock Holmes hear the downstairs door slam shut.

All the while sending a text off to Mycroft while thinking, there is no way in HELL that he is home Sherlock-

"If you know of John being back in the country and have not alerted me, you're breaking the deal. Do you want to fucking go? - SH" 

Footsteps makes their way up the stairs, slowly, and not wanting to make much noise, but Sherlock hears them. And just incase, grabs John's pocketknife from the bedside drawer. Let's face it, although he's six foot, mystery, Sherlock Holmes or whatever, right now, he's looking pretty damn venerable. His boyfriends grey oversized hoodie and only briefs on underneath, not exactly the spitting image of an intimidating opposition. 

Moving down the hall and towards the flat door, Sherlock hides behind the kitchen bench, as the flat doorknob slowly opens.

"I will throw this knife at you." Sherlock says, head still tucked under the bench.

"You know, as your boyfriend coming home a week early," an almost too familiar voice quarrels, "I honestly expected a warmer welcome home."

Sherlock stands up from his place almost instantaneously, hair mussed, eyes still glassy and long legs stretching from the piece of clothing covering his torso.

"John, you're- you're home!" Sherlock almost cries with joy and positively bounds over to meet his boyfriend at the door, enveloping him in an embrace so tight, it would inspire boa constrictors. After a tight hug, and lots of neck kisses, John finally realises what piece of fabric his hands are wrapped around. Pushing Sherlock back by his hips, John looks him up and down.

"Well, give us a spin."

Sherlock, while spinning around for John realises too late that his briefs have been pulled down just enough at the back by John to expose his ass, and spinning fast causes the hoodie to fly up at the back.

"Ah, there it is."

Sherlock smirks, "Shut up, you love it."

John, pulling his boy close to him again, with his eyes wandering over Sherlock's collarbone, drifts his hands down Sherlock's back, resting them in the small of it. "It didn't occur to me before how pretty you looked with purple blotches on your collarbones and neck."

Sherlock mock huffs, and says, "Really, didn't notice until now. Well, you better mark them well tonight, make sure you never forget that I belong to you..." Sherlock holds out the pause, a wicked smile in his voice,"...Johnny."

In one swift motion, Sherlock is up off of his feet, and being carried, like a new bride towards the bedroom, with startled shout of "John!"

Dumping Sherlock's lean frame onto the bed, and crawling very carefully over the top of him, not quite touching him just yet, John whispers, very faintly in his ear.

"What was that, love?"

Sherlock just smiles, genuinely, happily.

"Make love to me John, make me forget we were ever apart."

Oh, and he does.

Out of the bedroom, where Sherlock's phone dropped out of his hands on the kitchen floor, the sound almost covered by Sherlock's loud moans, it buzzes again. 

"I'll make sure to warn Gregory not to come around for a few days. I'm sure John is taking very good care of you - MH"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was like the first one I wrote for Lu.
> 
> you can find me:  
> my tumblr - @whoopdoopitsmagic  
> my twitter - @whoopdoopitsvia


	4. a vision of supremacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> basically john has a vision of life after the fall, and wakes up, back in dartmoor. shit goes down.

"Sherlock!" The man's name was a whisper on his lips as he awoke, the pain from Mary's bullet in his lower abdomen gone in an instant. John lifted himself up off of the pillow, heart still racing and eyes wide from whatever just took place. He looked around.   
Huh, where was he again?  
Looking across the bed from him, into the darkness ahead of him. In the light of the moonlight in the room, John could see the very man lying across from him.  
"Sherlock!" He hissed in a whisper, shaking the man awake. Sherlock shook his head upon waking, sitting up and blinking a few times in the light streaming through the open windows above the bed.  
"John, why are you awake? Why are you waking me?"   
John, still dazed, pulled Sherlock close, holding him tightly. John's bare chest was against his, John was just happy to have Sherlock again.  
"Oh thank god, I was certain she'd killed you."  
Wait, where was he? Why were they here? In a bed? Together? What had happened to the dingy warehouse that Sherlock was pulled away from, never to be seen again? Where was Mary? Why did this setting feel oddly familiar?  
"John," Sherlock spoke carefully as John still ran his hands through his hair, "Did you have a nightmare?" John pulled back.  
"Nightmare? Sherlock, Mary almost killed you!" John seemed to be utterly shocked at the fact.  
"I don't mean to alarm you John, but when you wake up at 2am talking to me about some woman called Mary and how she almost killed me, I think you might be having a nightmare."  
John was speechless, eyes wide, silent.  
"It was Mary, Sherlock, you remember? She shot you, she held us hostage in the warehouse, almost killed us, yeah? How did we even get here?"  
"I don't know who Mary is or what you're on about John, I really don't." Sherlock queried, shaking his head.  
John took a deep breath, then spoke again.  
"Sherlock, I need you to tell me where we are and what the date is."  
"What? Alright, 12th July and we're in Dartmoor."   
Dartmoor? 12th July? John must've been crazy, because he felt it at this point.  
"Dartmoor. 12th July. Mind telling me the year?" John said, in complete disbelief.  
"Oh for god's sake John, 2012. Come on, surely your nightmare wasn't that bad."  
Oh, but it was that bad. None of it was real.   
He was back in Dartmoor.  
Things were like they were before.  
He didn't have a wife named Mary.  
He didn't have a complete disaster of a life.   
Sherlock was safe.  
Sherlock wasn't dead.  
But, 12th July, Sherlock would be in about a month.  
If it was true.  
If he wasn't crazy.  
He had to do this.  
"Sherlock. I want to kiss you."  
Sherlock's eyes widened, he swallowed loudly.  
"Pardon."  
John paced himself slowly. He had to do this, he had to keep Sherlock this time. There was no way in hell he was letting it get bad again.  
"I. Want. To. Kiss. You." He paused. "Now."  
Sherlock drew in a small breath.  
"Okay." He said in a small voice. And John was on him like a lion.  
He was kissing Sherlock before he knew it, pressing his lips not-so-chastely to Sherlock. He raked his hands through the other man's curls.  
Fucking finally, he thought, he's mine.  
John kissed him, and kissed him, and loved him, and loved him for hours after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whelp i actually have a rather large one coming later mmmmmhhhhhmmmmmm
> 
> you can find me:  
> my tumblr - @whoopdoopitsmagic  
> my twitter - @whoopdoopitsvia

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! First ficlet! I'll admit these to be kind of small sometimes, and longer than a ficlet others. And I'll also admit to my upload schedule being utterly atrocious, but I'll see what I can do.
> 
> You can find me on:  
> tumblr - @whoopdoopitsmagic  
> twitter - @whoopdoopitsvia


End file.
